Who Goes There? Hinsch's
The neon signage outside Hinsch's in Bay Ridge is a bit on the grandiose side, given what lies inside. This is, after all, a simple luncheonette, with a side line in homemade candy and ice cream. But 62 years in business ought to buy you something in terms of respect. So the frontage is arguably warranted.
After a long, bitter battle, Bay Ridge's famous "Green Church" is gone. A demolition crew laid it low on Tuesday, Oct. 20, ending its 109-year-old life and robbing Bay Ridge of one it few true architectural treasures.
The green-serpentine stone-encased house of worship was formally called the Bay Ridge United Methodist Church. It was the congregation that wanted the building destroyed, sparking a long, tortured struggle with the surrounding community and preservationists. The church members insisted the decaying building was a burden, and would cost millions to repair—millions they didn't have. Activists suspected the structure was more sound than the congregation let on. The argument went back in forth for months. City Councilman Vincent Gentile led a push to preserve the church, but to no avail. The church and its pastor kept talking about needing to put their spiritual mission first, and leaving the building behind. I can see their point, but the decision still seems short-sighted. A community needs many things, including inspiring things to look at.
A smaller church will be built on the site—the corner of Fourth and Ovington avenues—along with the inevitable co-op building. My guess is no one will look at the high-rise and consider it evidence that God exists.
Below, a look at what was lost.
Somebody finally got the bottom (sort of) of the mystery behind Carroll Gardens' Vermont Market and Pharmacy.
This gal can't forget Bay Ridge was once Viking territory. I've met Victoria Hofmo, actually. Her focus on this issue is unwavering.
A remembrance of Cheyenne Diner in the Times, by an author who doesn't seem to know that the diner is not gone forever, but moving to Red Hook.
Delusional lame duck and Cheeze-it eater Bloomberg won't shut up about national politics, and still has lousy taste in food.
This is why builders use such crappy bricks these days. The old kind cost too much!
Recalling the New York high-life scene of old, via Lucius Beebe's epic 1960 grazing tour.
Cloud support.
Another mainstay of the old Midtown has closed.
Every politician, it seems, is in the pocket of the developers.
A Maspeth cemetery caretaker's house dating from the 1800s will be sold and probably knocked down because, well, its in Queens.
This thing is so yellow and blue and so freaking big.
A construction worker fell several stories to his death while working on a luxury highrise on Clinton Avenue. The cause of the fatality—the third such death this year in New York—was blamed on high winds—not rampant out-of-control development or the complete lack of industry supervision from the Department of Building.
John Rossi, the owner of Lowen's Pharmacy, a Bay Ridge landmark for decades, killed himself. He was tangled up in a steroids scandal.
What with the annual Norwegian Day Parade due to take place in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, this Sunday, May 20, I thought I would point out that there are still a few remaining signposts of the neighborhood's once mighty Norwegian-born population, beginning with large, peaceful park named after Viking explorer Lief Ericson.
There are several churches that still conduct services in Norwegian, including this one just north of Ericson Park.
Nordic Delicacies on Third Avenue caters to those oldtimers who still cling to Scandinavian cuisine, such as it is.
And the Norwegians, Swedish and Danes still have functioning social clubs on the side streets in the mid-60s along Eighth Avenue. They're all nondescript buildings and rather hard to find. The Danish club has the most lavish digs, and has a working restaurant. The Swedish club is done out in spiffy blue and yellow, the colors of the Swedish flag. The Norwegian club is called Sporting Club Gjoa, and still competes in soccer.
I plan to go to the parade. I'm curious, since half my heritage is Norwegian. I will report back next Monday.
Don't look for this charming throwback in Bay Ridge for much longer. Senators Dinettes is out of business and the space is up for rent.
There's a world of cultural history in this unassuming placard, though. The old phone number with the lettered prefix. The sweet emphasis on "All Name Brands." The prominent advertising of the very-1950s "Dinettes." The owners apparently never changed a word. One mystery: what exactly, I wonder, was "recovered." Part of the sign has fallen off. Sofas, perhaps? Or, in a more Proustian vein, maybe Time.
Found this on a wall in Bay Ridge, lost among the surrounding dung heap of auto body stores and spare tire outfits. The flags surround the Stars and Stripes are, clockwise from bottom left: Denmark, Norway and Sweden.
Stumped? Well, before "Saturday Night Fever" made everyone think Bay Ridge was full of Italians and nothing but, the nabe was home to a huge Scandinavian population. More Norwegians than Oslo at one point, they said. Mostly gone, now, of course. But this wall gives passersby a silent reminder.
Reason the Swedish flag is bigger than the other two? Could be because the still-hanging-on Swedish Social Club is just next door, to the right.
Being partly of Norwegian descent, their was a time when I would treck down to Bay Ridge from time to time whenever I got in the mood for some lefse, lignonberries or fishballs. (Not often, I admit.) On Third Avenue there is a shop that I believe is the only Norwegian food store in Manhattan. It's called Nordic Delicacies and it will sometimes have signs in the window proclaiming "The New Krumkaker Irons Are In Stock!"
The Norwegian population used to be subtantial down here (about 60,000), so much so the local Lutheran churches gave services in Norwegian and a large section of Eighth Avenue was called "Lapskaus Boulevard," named after a popular Norwegian stew. (Fascinating block-by-block map of Lapskaus Boulevard here.) There are still Danish, Swedish and Norwegian social clubs down here, but, by the time I first visited (early '90s), there was not enough of a population to support many businesses. Lapskaus Boulevard was already pretty much taken over by Sunset Park's Chinatown, aside from a Norwegian import gift show (Signy's Imports, a dusty enclave which closed in 2004) and The Atlantic Restaurant.
Even in New York City, where incongruous businesses lurk around every corner, the Atlantic at 8th and 54th was a wonder. It had been one of the major Norwegian eateries. So when the space was bought by Chinese restauranteurs and renamed the Wee Kee, the wail of Scandinavian sorrow was such that the new owner bowed to pleas that he keep a Norwegian menu alongside the new Chinese one. And so came into being, for about ten years, the only Chinese-Norwegian restaurant in, perhaps, the world.
I adored this place. The Chinese menu was just what you would have expected. It may have been good eating; I don't know—I never tried it. I made my choice from the six of seven Norwegian entrees listed on a board hanging above the counter and ate them silently among the few other elderly, stoic Norwegian men. The meals were all made by the Chinese cook, but from recipes carefully taught to him by the former owner of the Atlantic. It was fish pudding, boiled potatoes, and various stews, all truly delicious. I went down especially for lunch about once a year until the Wee Kee was replaced by another Chinese restaurant. There is not a trace the place ever existed now, and nobody around the neighborhood seems to remember anything about it. Sad.
Finding the picture above, dated from the 1970s, counts as something of a miracle. Thanks to the Scandanavian East Coast Museum.
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